


Tied Tight

by Neffectual



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Corsetry, Crossdressing Kink, M/M, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neffectual/pseuds/Neffectual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Axel's looking for the right person to take home. He stumbles upon Roxas, who hasn't quite tied his corset correctly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tied At The Front

Tied At The Front

The basement scene is hot and sweaty, as the song goes, and it's winding down for now, the early kids having skipped out and headed home already. There's another hour left for those who planned a late arrival, or those who simply stay out all night, because they've planned for that sort of thing. Axel's one of the latter, outfit chosen to tightrope-walk the line between pain and practicality. The vinyl pants are overkill, but on him, they work, and the fine mesh shirt is the most comfortable thing for the heat down here, even with the corset over the top. If he bends forwards, his nipple bars brush the edge of the corset, and there's the reason for fine mesh. You only get caught in a shirt once before you either decide to trash the shirt or the piercings, and he went through hell to get these done. They're not coming out for anything short of a medical emergency. The hair's catching glances, as it always does down here, and he wonders if they'd be quite so envious if they knew that the mass of red spikes looks like that all the time, even in serious meetings, unless slicked back. So he's dressed to kill, in black and red, and he's spent the night grinding himself against a coterie of willing partners, some known, some new; the corset making his thin waist that bit thinner, making him look bigger in the shoulders and accentuating the hips which first got him known in this scene, when he'd be found in little but satin bikini underwear in one of the dance cages. That was when he was still in college, and he could stay out all night, take someone home, and spend the rest of the day fucking them senseless, before taking a shower, redressing, and going back out, all on maybe an hour of sleep. These days, he's got an office job, a secretary and a nine to five, a boss and a paycheck, a mortgage to keep up on if he wants to keep his house, and a dog to feed. The all nighters have been cut down to Friday and Saturday nights, and although he still revels in the attention, he can feel the tiredness cutting into him, telling him that normally, he would have been asleep four hours ago. One more hour to go, and he's yet to find the guy he's taking home tonight. And it will be a guy, because tonight's Friday, and he's wound up from work, and he needs to find someone who doesn't mind it rough and dirty. The girls, for all their tough-girl image, are often rather breakable, and he's got no time for breakable tonight. He wants it hard and fast, wants to be in control in all the ways that count, and the last thing that's needed is someone who doesn't get that.

He finds himself at the bar, orders another couple of shots, because what the hell, it's Friday, and he's got nowhere to be for two days solid, so why not live a little? The bartender's making eyes at him, again, and he grins, cocky and self-assured. Sure, he'll take Reno home and bang him if there isn't anything new, because who doesn't want a smoking redhead? The spikes of hair, the goggles, the tats; they're all just fringe benefits of what he knows is a scorching ride from start to finish, and Reno always knows when Axel wants him to just take it, and does so. It's strange to think of the bartenders here; he remembers when he wanted to be one, although he suspects if they'd taken him up on it that he'd have been found on his knees in an alley somewhere, when he was meant to be serving customers. Still, Reno's not a bad prospect, but he's not going to settle, not just yet. There's still an hour, and an hour is plenty of time. He turns, downing a shot, and there's someone hovering, just by the bathrooms, looking self-assured in that incredibly nervous way that the new boys always do. He's all angles, from spikes of hair, hourglass waist with a corset, no shirt, flouncy skirt and heels. Axel wants to know what he's got under that skirt, if anything. Strange, even from the back, you'd never mistake him for a girl, he's too broad, too unsteady on the heels, too positively male.  
"Got your eye on that one?" Reno shouts, and Axel smiles, predatory, "He's already sent two home in an ambulance."  
Axel's grin widens. There's nothing he likes better than a challenge, and it looks like he's found one for tonight.

"Hi."  
"Fuck off and die."  
Axel steps back, mock-wounded.  
"Now, now, kitten, is that any way to talk to the person taking you home tonight?"  
"Look, fuck off. I'm not interested."  
"Because you're dressed like Stripper Barbie for your own pleasure."  
"Why is that so difficult for you to comprehend?"  
Axel leers.  
"Because you look uncomfortable. The shoes look new, the corset isn't broken in, because you're wincing, and you're clearly sober so that you can stay upright. This either isn't your usual scene, or you're new – either way, you should be trying to pick someone up."  
"Because I can't get used to things alone?" the boy says, and Axel's aware that he is a boy, something under twenty-one, and thus terribly, terribly sober.  
"Let me buy you a drink, at least. That will remedy one thing."  
The kid just looks at him, quirks one eyebrow up and then turns his back. That's it. No one has ever turned Axel down, not in this club, at least. Ninth grade doesn't count, and anyway, she's married and fat now, so that was a lucky escape.  
"Name's Axel. And you're coming home with me tonight."  
"Not a chance in –" The kid's cut off as he slips, trying to move away, and Axel catches him, used to this sort of thing, and then whilst he's off balance, moves them both over to a booth, half-hidden in the darkness.  
"Sit, talk. Come on, what can it hurt? Do I get a name, at least, for saving you from hitting the floor?"  
"Roxas." The blond says, and crosses his legs artfully. Axel looks down and suddenly spots it, the reason the boy's being so shitty. The corset's laces wrap around his waist, tied around the front, the bow of the laces obvious.  
"Fuck, sorry, I didn't realise."  
"What, that I had a name? You're such an ass."  
"No, fuck, I mean – how much? For the night?"  
"What?"  
If possible, Roxas seems to get even angrier at that, for no good reason, and Axel shifts a little closer, placing a hand on a leg and finding it smooth and hairless. Oh, yes, definitely a professional. The nervous looks are clearly an act that some men like.  
"How much to come home with me and let me fuck your brains out?"  
"You're insane." Roxas says, and he looks scared, looking for a way out, Axel's body in the way of any sort of dignified exit, the only open route being under the table.  
"Look, I didn't know, but I've got cash, I can pay. I only dress cheap."  
A smile curves at the corner of that cupid's bow mouth, and he's beautiful, stunning under the poorly-applied make-up, against all the odds.  
"You do, at that. You telling me you'll take me home and show me a good time, big boy?"  
And there it is, the purr of someone who's done all of this before, who knows how the game is played. So maybe he's never played cyberpunk before, and isn't used to the music, or the crowds, the number of people dressed so that their gender is only ever going to be a guess. But he's done this before, because suddenly those eyes are half-lidded and sultry, and Axel decides to say fuck it to staying until they get kicked out, and drags the kid outside.

It's cold, but Axel had a coat, because he's old enough to know better, and Roxas has something black and laced up the back, the quintessential goth coat for those who know no better, and Axel's going to call a taxi, but Roxas drags him around the side of the building into the dark alleyway, and hikes up that skirt to reveal nothing but skin, the mark of someone who knows what they want, and Axel falls upon him like a starving man. It's been maybe six months since anyone asked for this, since he would have offered, and it feels fantastic to be down on his knees, one hand stroking soft, hairless balls and the other braced against the wall. Roxas knows how to fuck a mouth, it seems, and Axel just relaxes his throat, swallows him down, grateful for those years of practice. There's nothing better than being roughly taken, especially when you know you're going to return the favour. When the blond starts making high-pitched noises, Axel pulls back and uses his hand to work him over, keeping the resultant spillage to one cheek, and it's like the kid can't get him away fast enough, straddling his knees and licking the come off in little, catlike motions, and Axel can't wait any longer, he has to have this boy, but not here, not like this. Alley sex is one thing, but when you're paying for it, you may as well take your time.  
"Taxi. Now."  
"You're the boss." Roxas says, mouth curving into a half-smile again, as he adjusts the layers of skirt to cover himself once more. A tiny, gauzy layer is caught on the corset, and Axel unhooks it gently, trying to do no damage to the material, and Roxas tilts his head to the side before kissing him, soundly. He tastes like semen and soda, sweet-salty and perfect. Axel calls the taxi, and puts an arm around the boy, in case anyone gets any bright ideas about poaching him, but also to stop him shivering, because the coat's not warm. They finally compromise on wrapping Roxas close to Axel's body, inside his big, battered leather coat, their body heat creating a cave of warmth and heat, Axel's erection pressing between soft buttocks as best it can through tight vinyl pants. They look like any other couple, leaving this club, waiting for their ride, but Axel can feel the thrum of excitement between them. They both know what's going to happen, and they're both ready for it – Axel's more sure of this than ever when he watches Roxas slide into the taxi, skirt not lying as flat as it should, and it's going to take all his willpower to make him keep his hands off that little disturbance for the twenty minutes it'll take to reach his place. He busies himself with kissing the little blond into submission, pressing him into the seat and sliding one hand up a smooth thigh to just where underwear would sit if he were wearing any, but no further, just marvelling a the expanse of smooth skin under his fingers. Roxas makes beautiful noises – well, he's being paid for it, isn't he, so he'd better make noises – and they all seem to be hardwired directly to Axel's cock, making him impossibly harder until the taxi stops, and he throws money at the driver, not caring how much, not caring about anything, only that they're going upstairs, and he's going to get inside that sweet little body and own it.

Kirk is waiting when they get the door open, but Axel's too busy trying to get under that skirt to do anything more than snap his fingers at the well-behaved German shepherd, who takes it as the order it is and returns to his crate, curling up to sleep. Past the guard dog and into the bedroom, door shut, Axel lifts Roxas and presses him against the door, their hips grinding together, Roxas whining a little at the eyelets on the front of the pants graze him, but then, Axel considers, he should have thought of that before being such a fucking cocktease.  
"Put me the fuck down and I won't have to walk out right now." Roxas pants, but he doesn't sound convincing. Still a change of locale is always admirable, so Axel carries him to the bed, setting him on it gently before skilfully undoing his own corset.  
"Not going to help me with mine?" Roxas says, but Axel looks and he's actually struggling.  
"Fuck, no, I'm keeping you in all that gear. Next time, stockings."  
"What, you want me with the boots on, even?"  
"Boots, corset, everything. Lube's in the drawer, get bent over the bed and fuck yourself open."  
Axel's loosening his lacing quickly, fingers flying over his own spine as Roxas leans over, opening the lube and slicking two fingers, his skirt flipped up, over his back, legs spread. It's a sight to see, and so he unsnaps the busk, quickly, taking a couple of breaths before untucking the shirt and stripping that off, too, attacking the laces of the pants just as the blond slides two fingers in and hit breath hitches. So Axel pauses for a second, just watching the little blond take deep breaths before he dares to start moving his fingers again. Tight, then, maybe not having taken anyone tonight, but that'll change quickly, now Axel's got his laces undone and pulled his cock out. Fuck taking the pants and boots off, he's naked enough for what he wants right now.   
"Fingers out, spread yourself." He says, voice harsh in what had previously been silence, and digs out a condom, rolling it on without preamble, watching as Roxas does what he's told. He strokes one finger over that tight little pucker, listening to the indraw of breath, before he pushes in, and doesn't stop until his balls are pressed against soft skin. Roxas makes a little noise that might be pain and might be pleasure, but Axel's done enough waiting to last him a lifetime, so he rolls his hips again, two smooth, strong thrusts before he turns vicious, slamming in and listening to Roxas keen, that noise nothing like pain. He keeps pushing, hard and fast, because he wants this tonight, needs to be in control, needs the little whore to take it, and he is, gloriously, hot and tight and stretched just enough, squeezing him as he thrusts in hard enough to make the blond make a noise that's somewhere between a scream and a cry. But Roxas is pushing back on him, and Axel thinks for a moment before he pulls out, turning him over with one hand, spreading him again and plunging back in, because he wants to watch that face work its way to ecstasy. And he chose right, because those eyes are wider, the mouth is wider, and he's making helpless noises, like a small, furry animal trapped by a predator, and that's enough to make Axel lean forward and bite down, hard, on the kid's collarbone as he comes, the last few thrusts against his prostate making Roxas come as well, wet between them. Axel trails his fingers through it and brings them to Roxas' mouth, where the blond eagerly licks him clean, eyes still wide and fucked out, breath coming in tiny pants.  
Axel pulls out, throws the condom away, and pulls off the boots and pants, clambering over the mostly-clothed, sated blond and getting into bed, because it's nearly six, and he's meant to be at the gym for eleven tomorrow. He doesn't remember about payment until he's nearly asleep, and by then, it's too late anyway.

Axel wakes to hair in his mouth, sated and aching like he's found a keeper, and then frowns as he sits up. There's a noise in the kitchen, like someone humming, and he staggers out, naked, bleary-eyed, and into a slender blond, wearing nothing but one of his work shirts with the sleeves rolled up, holding a plate of pancakes.  
"I cooked." Roxas says, and Axel just looks at him, "Pancakes. See?"  
Axel keeps staring, before something niggles in the back of his brain.  
"Was I meant to pay you?"  
"I'm not a whore." Roxas says, drily, "No, honestly. No matter how I tie my corset."  
"But you let me – "  
"As if it were the first time." Roxas says, and there it is, that little half-smile which got him into all this mess in the first place.  
"So if you're not a whore…?"  
"Art student. I like a touch of the alternative. Now eat your pancakes and lend me some clothes, I have to get back to campus today."  
In the end, Axel eats his pancakes, lends Roxas some clothes, and drives him the three miles to campus, dropping him off somewhere non-descript, all in a somewhat baffled silence that he just had one of the best fucks of his life with someone who is, of all things, an art student.  
Roxas leans over, before he gets out of the car, and kisses him, long and lingering. It's almost good enough for Axel to ask for a second go, in the backseat, but he doesn't.  
"So." Roxas says, and there's a long pause, "If I happen by the club some – "  
"Weekends only." Axel says, "Some of us work for a living."  
"Sucks to be you."  
"I'll be there tonight." Axel says, and he sounds, of all things, desperate, and this isn't how hook-ups are supposed to go, this is supposed to be easy and simple, like the hundred or so times he's done it before.  
"Too bad. I've got studio time tonight. But I suppose, if you're around sometime, I might be around."  
Axel laughs at that, because he realises, the kid's trying to play it cool, and he's not really managing it.  
"You know where I live. After six is good." He says, and leans in to steal another kiss. Roxas gives him that half-smile, and shuts the door. Axel watches him go, because the view is nice even in too-large jeans and shirt. He suspects the view would be nice in anything.  
He drives home, lets himself in, and busies himself with tidying the bedroom of scattered clothing. When he finds himself holding two corsets, he smiles – of course the little bitch would find a way of coming back, even if Axel hadn't wanted it. He folds his own up and slides it into the drawer where his live. The other, which is cherry red coutil, and beautiful, he laces up fully. Then ties the laces in a bow, at the front.  
After all, it suited him well enough.


	2. Tied Too Close

It’s a few weeks before Axel spots him again, leaning against the bar, a different corset this time, because, after all, he left the other behind on the floor, and a sleek, leather kilt – has to be a kilt, no way anyone but the ignorant would call it a skirt – in place of the gauzy thing he was wearing before. The hair’s the same, as is the stream of men being turned down, but the heels are lower, more comfortable, more sensible. He’s learning. Axel, on the other hand, is in the skyscraper boots tonight, teamed with an ankle length skirt which seems to be more hole than fabric, held together with a number of belts, chains and straps. He wonders, for a fleeting moment, who let Roxas in, because he’s clearly too young to be here, but then, he was when he started, too, and no one ever took issue with taking him into the back and showing him a good time. Fond memories of being bent over the sinks in the staff bathroom, or even on his knees behind the bar, flicker through his mind. He watches as the petite blond orders drinks from Reno, who simply winks, waves his money away, and hands him a soda. The pout comes out in full force, but Axel knows that Reno won’t back down on this; he never did when he started, after all, had to learn how to have a good time sober, which, at nineteen, you always think is impossible. He’s not buying alcohol for Roxas, not tonight, not when he can watch sober annoyance etch those features. He walks to the other side of the bar and orders two shots, taking one easily and letting the other run in rivulets down his chest, dripping trails into his leather corset – overbust tonight, dark, blood red, holding a straight line across his chest, and he’s still got his head thrown back when he feels a hot mouth following the lines the vodka made. He smiles as he opens his eyes to see a skinny, blue-haired man lapping at his skin.  
“Hello, pretty pet,” Axel says, smirking, “Never seen you here before.”  
“Buy me a drink and you can do more than see me.” The man growls, and Axel throws back his head and laughs. Once upon a time, this demanding thing, mostly naked in mesh and glitter, would have been worth taking home for a tumble, but instead, Axel signals a bartender for another two shots, hands one to the other man, and drinks his own.  
“Not tonight, thanks.” He says, lightly, and glances back to where Roxas is making eyes at Reno in the hope he’ll get something out of it, and walks over, making sure to stay behind the blond.  
“Two?” Reno asks, over Roxas’ head.  
“One, thanks.” Axel says, smirking, and watches Roxas turn around, fixing him with a pleading stare, “And a soda for the kid.”  
“Roxas growls as Reno chuckles.  
“Didn’t think you did jailbait, Ax.”  
“Never stopped you.”  
Roxas throws them both a considering look.  
“Sounds like a nice spectator sport.” He says, calmly, “And anyway, I’m not jailbait, I’m in college.”  
“Then maybe we’ll play pass the blond one day.” Reno says, placing the drinks on the counter. Axel tips his shot back and Roxas sullenly sips his soda as the other redhead bustles off to get more drinks in.  
“You offered to buy me a drink last time.” Roxas says, sulkily.  
“Last time you weren’t a sure thing.” Axel says, still smirking.  
“Who says I am now?”  
Axel just smiles, and Roxas rolls his eyes.  
“Anyway, I can get you drunk when I get you home, pool finest spirits in all your hollows and lick you clean.” Axel purrs, nipping the blond’s ear, making him shiver.  
“I keep remembering you.” Roxas says, quietly enough that Axel has to strain to hear him, “On your knees for me, so eager, so needy. Want it that bad again? Going to let me fuck you, this time?”  
Axel has to bite his lip – the kid’s good, knows just what to say, but he didn’t come here alone, this week. Three weeks, he’s come just to pick up Roxas and leave, and the blond hasn’t been here. This week….  
“Perhaps. But first we’re going to see some friends of mine, have a dance, I’m going to have some drinks and you’re going to be unrepentantly gorgeous until I let you drink mine, and only then are we going home so you can have me flat on my back.”  
Roxas moans a little and presses back, grinding a little to make Axel want him.  
“This is your little blond is, it? The amazing fuck you picked up by being lucky?” a new voice says, and Axel smiles.  
“Oh yeah. Demyx, Roxas, Roxas, Demyx. And that’s Kairi,” Axel indicated a redheaded girl who gave him a disinterested once over then disappeared into the crowd, “Luxord, and Xemnas. As for whoever Xemnas has picked up – ” Axel stops, recognising the blue-haired one who’d tried to get him to take him home.  
“Saïx. You missed your chance, pretty thing.” The new addition hisses, and Axel catches Roxas’ reaction, sending a glare across their little circle which clearly marks Axel as his. Fucking cute, especially with Saïx still looking like he’ll poach anything going.  
“So, yeah, this is Roxas.”  
“Hi.” Roxas says, blandly, then turns and hisses to Axel, “You didn’t even know I’d be here, did you? This was your night?” He seems almost embarrassed by this, then rallies, quickly, “And if I was meeting the friends, you could have at least bought me a fucking drink.”  
Axel rather agrees with the last, orders two shots and watches as Roxas swallows them down without even a grimace, which makes him think of other things. He adjusts himself carefully in his long skirt, and wishes he’d thought to tell the others to stay home again, so he could just take Rox to bed, like he wanted to.

“So, we get to meet the catamite.” Xemnas sneers, and Axel shoots him a warning glance, but he needn’t worry.  
“A catamite would suggest that I was kept for the pleasure I give, much like those in relationships. Either you’re suggesting I’m a classicist, or someone Axel would keep for his convenience. A catamite was paid in their keep, too, in fine clothes and bed and board. I believe you were looking for was for someone paid in monetary goods for their sexual services – whore will suffice, for that. And I believe you already have your own.”  
Axel bites the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing, and tugs gently at the blond’s corset laces, in place of any more obvious affection. Demyx just laughs, loudly.  
“No Z tonight?” Axel asks, and Demyx makes a face, which doesn’t quite match his eyes.  
“He loves those damn lab reports more than me, Ax, I swear.”  
“Demyx’s boyfriend Zexion is – ”  
“For a start, head of student council, but also a molecular biology major.” Roxas finishes, rolling his eyes, “I am aware of things happening on campus, you know, despite me having paint splatters in my hair and having nothing better to do on the weekends but come hang around with you.”  
Axel colours, and Demyx crows with laughter again. Luxord downs four shots at the bar, then winks at Roxas.  
“No getting ideas, thank you, we haven’t discussed sharing.” Axel says, a little too sharply, and of course Roxas picks up on it.  
“That’s a shame.” He purrs, pressing close to Luxord, the other blond clearly enjoying the attention, “I could really get behind being between two attractive men…” He spins on one foot, which presses his backside firmly against Axel’s groin, “But on reflection, maybe I’ll just stick with one, for now. Seems less cheap.”  
That last barb is clearly aimed at Saïx, grinding himself on Xemnas’ thigh and making little panting sounds which are either faked or just proves he’s wound too tight.  
“Should we leave you two alone?” Demyx asks, cattily, and before anyone can respond, is stalking off to the tearoom, which is quieter. Axel takes one look at Luxord, who presses himself to the other side of Saïx, and herds Roxas in the direction Demyx had gone in.

The tearoom is well sit, and Axel can see the traces of make-up and hidden bone structure of Roxas’ face. Demyx sighs as he sits down, burying his head in his hands.  
“He’s not got reports, has he?” Roxas asks, ever astute, “You’ve had a fight.”  
“He doesn’t like me going out with you, Ax, you know that. You’re a bad influence, apparently, just because you sleep around.”  
Roxas casts a look over to the redhead sat next to him, who shrugs, not denying it.  
“Look, there’s…. I’m….”  
“You’re not settling down, be realistic. You’re not the type. You’ve had a blond phase before – fuck, I _was_ your blond phase, I know what I’m talking about.”  
Another look from Roxas, less forgiving this time, and Axel is reduced to willing Demyx to shut up, willing him to just shut his mouth, before he ruins any chances the redhead has with the little blond at his side – and Axel must have developed psychic powers in the last five minutes, because not only does Demyx say nothing else, Roxas puts a hand on his knee, then slides it, slowly, through one of the many gaps in the skirt, and lets it drift a little higher.  
“Have a little faith,” Axel says, softly, “And tell Z to shove it. Being promiscuous isn’t contagious.”  
Demyx snorts.  
A hand touches Roxas’ shoulder and he snatches his hand away from Axel’s lap as he’s turned around.  
“Hi, Roxas, right?”  
“Ah.” Axel says, quietly, “Rox, meet Z.”  
“I showed you around on your open day, didn’t I? And now you want to – ”  
“Stop before you embarrass yourself.” Roxas says, flatly, “Not trying to poach anyone’s boyfriend, thank you. I’ve got enough trouble with my own.” He clasps Axel’s hand in evidence, and smiles. Zexion makes a tiny noise of either embarrassment or apology, and sinks down on Demyx’s knee.  
“Try this again?” Roxas says, perching himself on Axel’s knee, too, although whether that’s solidarity or possessiveness, Axel has no idea, “Hi, I’m Roxas, apparently you’ve all been told I’m a spectacular fuck, I study art, and I’m Axel’s boyfriend.”  
“Hi. Zexion, you can call me Z, I’ve seen you around, and wasn’t your artwork in the show last week?”  
Roxas shakes his head quickly, but it’s too late, Demyx has started talking.  
“Oh, yeah, I saw that one – holy shit, it was Ax, right?”  
Roxas colours and ducks his head, whilst Axel laughs, before kissing his neck.  
“It’s alright, Rox, you can fingerpaint on me later.”  
Roxas grumbles and wriggles a little, until he hears Axel hiss, then sits up straight and looks smug. Zexion is struggling not to laugh, and they dissolve into easy conversation, mostly forgetting about the rest of the club around them. Z brings coffee, to apologise, and Demyx sends him back for cake, Axel enjoying the way Roxas smiles when he’s fed blue frosting off the redhead’s fingers.

It’s half seven when they head out, Roxas nuzzling sleepily into Axel’s neck – he still hasn’t learnt to bring a coat, and it’s nearly November now, so he’d be shivering if he wasn’t full of the spiked coffee Z had kept buying him.  
“Get him home safely.” Demyx says, as Zexion brings his car around, the only one of them sober enough to drive, “Or we’ll come and skin you in your sleep.”  
“You, sir, are no gentleman.” Axel says, yawning, and calls for a cab firm he knows to come and get them. By the time the cab arrives, Rox is practically a dead weight, and he struggles to get the little blond into the seat and strap him in, cradling him in his arms to hold him up. The drive isn’t long, but Axel’s bone-weary himself, from worrying about his friends meeting Rox, to the little drama with Zexion, before Rox defused it all. His eyes want to slip closed, so he focuses them on Roxas’ half-closed eyes, that glimmer of blue, so full of light. He barely notices the cab drawing to a stop.  
“Time to go, sleepyhead.” He murmurs, lifting Roxas easily, saving him the trouble of walking, passing a few bills over and waving away the change, before watching the cab speed off into the night, “Now, how easy is it to climb stairs with someone in your arms?”  
It turns out, it’s not that difficult, not two floors up, anyway, and Axel manoeuvres Roxas through the door of his apartment and into the bedroom, setting him down gently before going back to lock the door, patting Kirk on his way back, actually taking a moment to sit and scritch behind the dog’s ears before he pours two glasses of water, points Kirk to his crate, and heads back into the bedroom. Roxas is essentially out for the count, and doesn’t really move when Axel starts unbuckling his boots and kilt, turning him over to get to the corset laces, wriggling those free and getting that off, too. Roxas seems to breathe a little easier, then, so Axel watches him curl around a pillow, then drags his own clothes off, leaving them in a heap. He thought he’d outgrown that, but he’s shattered, and there’s a warm, soft body in his bed, someone who called him a boyfriend, and all he has strength to do is pull the drapes across, to keep the dawn out, and crawl into bed, shifting the pillow so Roxas is embracing him. He presses one soft kiss to that blond mess of hair, and then he, too, is asleep.

In the morning, Roxas is gone, as is Axel’s spare key. There’s a note, but there’s nothing on it but a cell number, which Axel is loath to call, in case it’s fake. Roxas’ corset is gone from the drawer, which means Axel has no excuse to ask him to come back over. He wonders what the kid went home in, and is answered when he discovers more of his clothes missing, his drawers rifled through. He sighs, heavily, and pets Kirk when he comes to sit at his feet.  
“Some guard dog you are, can’t even let me know when someone’s escaping without talking to me.” He says, and dials the number, quickly, before he can change his mind.  
“Axel? Please tell me that’s you and you didn’t throw my number outside for some weirdo to pick up?”  
Axel wants to laugh with relief, but doesn’t.  
“Did you borrow shoes?” he asks, and realises how nonsensical that sounds, “I mean, to get home, did you – ”  
“I had studio time today, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stay out so late, I thought we’d meet, fuck, and I could get you to take me home again, okay? I’m literally talking to you whilst trying to paint fucking shafts of light, so feel my pain.”  
“I’m not sure demons like you feel pain.” Axel says, but he’s smiling, because he knows studio time is important to Roxas, and if he’s still on the phone then he at least cares enough to ensure Axel knows where he stands before he runs off into artist-dribbly-painter land, “You can go now, you know. And you’d be better be back later, or I shall feel quite abandoned.”  
Roxas laughs, quietly, softly, and Axel feels like the sound is almost reverent.  
“Oh, I’ll be back, alright. These clothes are going to need washing, for a start, and I believe I was promised something about you… flat on your back?”  
“Who said that? Certainly wasn’t me, no sir, I don’t think that was ever on the menu.” Axel says, a yawn cracking his voice at the end.  
“Go back to sleep.” Roxas says, almost fondly, and hangs up.  
Axel decides he’d better do as he’s told, and heads back to bed. After all, it wouldn’t do to ruin things before they’ve begun.


	3. Tied and Time

The third time they meet is a little different; for a start, Roxas is wearing jeans and an overlarge t-shirt, pulling to the side, exposing a bare shoulder, for another, it’s daylight, the sun still shining, albeit crisply through the first breath of winter – soon these early evenings will be over, hidden in the dark of the end of the year. Axel’s managed to finish early on a Friday, for once, especially unusual when Monday is a public holiday. So he’s got a whole long weekend of Roxas to look forward to. Axel beeps his horn when he sees Roxas saying goodbye to some skinny, silver-haired teen, and half-smiles when Roxas looks, jams a middle finger up at him, and carries on his conversation, like the redhead half knew he would. The last two times haven’t counted as dates, not even after the second, Rox crawling back into bed with him, both too tired to do anything all over again, but this weekend will. Roxas from afar is a beautiful thing, all crowns of golden caught in the sunlight as it fades over campus. Axel was never a student here, but it makes him remember his own college days, and he thinks, darkly, that Roxas is so very young, although he’s older than Axel was when he started chasing trouble; it’s a matter of perspective, when Axel was this scrawny little thing with attitude and Roxas is… well. He’s something else, all mouth and hair and daring, all limbs loose and comfortable, all close and gorgeous, like he’s carved out of all of Axel’s personal fantasies.

“He’s my roommate.” Roxas says, slinging his bag into the back of the car before sliding into the passenger seat and fixing Axel with a stern look, “He was checking the coast was clear for him to have his boyfriend over this weekend. Nothing for you to be stupidly jealous over.”  
“Just trying to hurry you up,” Axel says, grinning, “My libido waits for no spotty teenager, you should know that.”  
Roxas laughs, and Axel admits that he might be fairly gone on this one, when he’s ready to write sonnets to the way the light catches his hair.  
“Told you. Jealous.”  
Axel just rolls his eyes and starts the car, Roxas grumbling as he straps himself in, under his breath. There’s a little awkward silence until Roxas looks out of the window and wrinkles his nose in confusion.  
“I thought we were going back to yours.” He says, puzzled, “But we’re not headed the right way at all.”  
“Did I say we were going back to mine?” Axel asks, eyes wide in faux-innocence, smirk belying everything, “Well, I thought I might book us a hotel, instead.”  
Roxas’ eyes go wide with horror.  
“I’m not going to a hotel with you.” he says, firmly, “No way. I’m not actually a whore, you know, I thought we’d been over that.”  
“I just thought it might be nice.” Axel says, surprised at this reaction.  
“Well you thought wrong. Turn around, we’re going back to yours.”  
“Look, it’s not uncommon for couples to book hotels, you know; there’s nothing sleazy about it, it’s – ”  
“Turn around, we’re going back to yours. Or you can take me back to the dorms.”  
Axel baulks.  
“Do you have any idea how much it’s cost me? I was trying to do something nice.”  
Roxas colours, and looks out of the window, and Axel just sighs and takes the next turning, reversing onto someone’s driveway to turn around and head back towards campus. He doesn’t know what the fuss is about, but this was supposed to be a good weekend. He pulls onto campus and parks up outside Roxas’ dorm building.  
“Now, you want to tell me what the hell that was all about, or do you want to go now?”  
Roxas bites his lip.  
“I didn’t – ” he says, and stops, shakes his head, and puts his hand on the door handle. Then, before Axel can do anything, the blond’s surging forwards, kissing him with abandon, and Axel’s batting him backwards, shifting on the seat.  
“No, you don’t get to just do that and it’s all okay.” Axel says, quietly, and Roxas shuffles back a little, out of his lap, but keeps a hand on his knee, like he can’t bear to let go, “You have to tell me what’s up.”  
“I didn’t bring nmmnm mnnm.” Roxas says, muttering the last part, and Axel looks quizzically at him.  
“You didn’t what?”  
“I didn’t bring any clothes, okay!” the blond shouts, looking embarrassed, “I thought we’d be at yours all weekend, so I brought stuff for if we were going out, but nothing… normal. Nothing nice. Just this,” he plucks at his t-shirt, “And a corset and shorts.”  
Axel smothers a grin.  
“What made you think I was taking you to the kind of hotel where nice clothes would be needed?” he says, smirking now, and Roxas swats him on the arm.  
“Not a cheap date. Except that once.”  
“And that second time, and the time after the second time, in my kitchen.”  
“Waffles don’t make me a cheap date.” The blond retorts, and this is more like it, this is closer to their usual banter, not the weird silence they had before the fight. Axel leans in for another kiss, then jumps as the sound of laughing teenagers goes past. He rolls his eyes.  
“Let’s get out of here, yeah?”  
Axel leans back into his seat, and peels them out of the parking lot.

The stairs up to Axel’s apartment are taken two at a time, Roxas eager to get inside. The kiss in the car whetted his appetite, and the minute they’re through the door, he’s herding Axel back against the couch, barrelling into him, and Axel doesn’t fight him off like he’s expecting, doesn’t laugh away the need, the fervour with which Roxas is kissing him, just lets himself be pushed down flat, and groans as Roxas straddles him, licking into his mouth as if they haven’t seen each other in months. Axel’s lifting his hips a little, a gentle, circular motion which belies the urgency of the moment, the two of them locked together at the mouth. Roxas is panting already, and Axel smirks.  
“Not had anyone since the other week, then?”  
“Shut the fuck up.” Roxas just retorts, crawling down Axel’s body and tearing at his fly, swallowing him down as soon as his partial erection is revealed, eager, needy, wanting, and Axel has to bite his lip not to cry out at the intensity. He keeps his hips still and steady, so as not to give Roxas too much to complain about later, and wonders what it says about him that he can watch that blond head bobbing and want nothing more than to write poems to those sun-browned shoulders, strong and slender, tapering down to the thin waist, hidden by the baggy t-shirt, the firm ass and thighs, well-shaped calves, right down to the pale feet currently sticking out of the bottom of ratty jeans. Axel can play sex god on the outside, but inside he doesn’t know what to think, when pleasure’s almost overridden by the way something low in his stomach catches as Rox’s hair catches in the light, and he buries his fingers in it and comes with a low groan, surprising himself.  
“Thought you’d last longer.” Roxas says, smirking, as he pulls away, wiping his mouth, then looks at Axel’s eyes and just climbs up his body, and Axel pushes all he can into the kiss, tasting himself, refusing to close his eyes in case everything seeps away. Roxas presses his face into the crook of Axel’s neck, and breathes, just for a moment, before Axel realise he has a favour to repay.  
“Bed?” he asks, softly, and Roxas looks keen before he seems to realise what he’s being offered.  
“You mean – ”  
“Whatever you want.”   
Roxas smiles, like sun splitting clouds, and then pauses.  
“Where’s Kirk?”  
Axel smiles.  
“Dem’s got him for the weekend. C’mon, d’you want to talk about my dog, or do you want to come to bed?”  
“Bed.” Roxas says, gently, and takes him by the hand to lead him in. Axel grips firmly, and resolves never to let go.

There’s a temptation to let it be like any other hook-up, especially with Axel one up on Roxas, who’s fighting to control himself, but they slow when the bedroom door is shut behind them, Roxas stepping back to watch Axel get naked, for the first time, because they’ve only done this clothed, but it seems important, now, to be naked with each other. Roxas pulls his t-shirt over his head only when he’s certain he’s not going to miss anything in the few seconds in which he can not see, and shucks jeans without letting his eyes leave Axel’s body, revealing he has nothing underneath. Axel smiles at that, and Roxas’ eyes flick over his body, taking everything in before his lips thin and he tears his gaze away, determined to take charge.  
“On the bed, then. Lube where it should be?”  
Axel breathes a tiny sigh of relief, that this isn’t going to be flowery, and digs the lube out of the top drawer as he walks towards the bed.  
“How do you want me?” he asks, drawing the question out, because it’s just too fun to play at willing slave when he gets the chance, and it makes Roxas smile, so it can’t be all bad.  
“I want to see you.” Roxas says, a little softer than he could have, and he catches the moment Axel hears it, and changes his posture accordingly, a little less lounging and more meaningful, like he’s full there in the moment, no longer playing a role. He sits on the bed and lets Roxas flow to him, standing between his legs and kissing his hair, their skin pressed together, and the redhead idly wonders why they haven’t done this before, because it’s glorious, complete abandon, and he has the freedom to place little kisses and bites wherever he chooses. Roxas hisses as Axel finds a nipple and bites, a little too close to the wrong side of pain, but still good, despite the sting, and brings a hand out of that impossibly red hair to flick at a bar, making the redhead whine and rake nails down his back. There’s no way this isn’t going to be a little vicious, not between them, and Axel welcomes the familiarity in a situation he’s rapidly losing control of.

Much like earlier, Roxas is between Axel’s legs now, licking lower, and Axel’s glad he’s got his ass half-off the bed, because it means he doesn’t need to hold his knees, so can fist one hand convulsively in blond spikes, and the let the other flex on the sheets as he arches wantonly onto that wicked tongue. He doesn’t want to think about where Roxas learnt to be so good at this, decides it must just be beginner’s luck, and swallows a gasp as Rox spreads him further. It’s been a while since he was on his back for anyone; oh, he’s taken a pounding in the last three months, been taken hard and fast in the bathrooms at the club, or round the back, but he’s not had anyone back, not let anyone take him to bed, spread him out and thoroughly ruin him, make him fall apart with just their mouth on him. It’s a degree of abandon which is different to rutting in heat, letting someone take time, no urging, no cursing for things to speed towards completion, just moaning his agreement with everything Roxas does, biting his lip until it’s sore and he’s sure he must be a picture. Roxas licks his lips as he moves to stand, his hair a mess and his mouth spit-shiny and red. Axel thinks he gasps his name, can’t be sure before he’s pulling that body down over his, kissing the blond like he can devour him, Roxas making filthy, hungry little noises as they rub together.  
“Need to taste you.” Axel pants out, at last, dragging Roxas onto the bed to straddle his chest, and it’s like they’re moving at cross-purposes, hands and knees all in the wrong places, getting in the way of each other until Axel’s happy with where Roxas is, and swallows him down like he did on their first meeting, needy and desperate, and it’s as if the blond feels the same desperation, because he rocks his hips a little, and Axel just hums agreement and opens his throat, letting Roxas use his mouth, which makes Rox keen like he’s been waiting years for this. He almost doesn’t notice the finger sliding into him, but hisses at two, rocking himself into the stretch and burn, and Roxas pulls back, digging through the nightstand with his free hand for a condom, then adding more lube to his fingers when he finds one, trying for three now, and Axel winces, just a little. Roxas quirks an eyebrow.  
“If you’re about to tell me it’s been a while, I’m going home.” He says, bluntly, and Axel grins back at him.  
“Nope, just going to tell you to go easy on an old man.”  
Roxas rolls his eyes, but he’s a little more careful as a third slides in, crooking his fingers perfectly, pulling away to put the condom on, leaving Axel mewling at the loss.  
“Alright, alright, I’m going as fast as I can.”  
“I’m needy.” Axel says, gasping as there’s blunt pressure against him and Roxas almost yowls as he’s drawn inside. There’s this perfect moment where he’s fully sheathed and arching back, and Axel can look up the long, flat line of him, hip to throat, and he’s beautiful, just like that, teeth buried in his lip and thin chest heaving with the effort of staying still. At that point, Axel realises he may be in love, but it’s the wrong time for realisation, Roxas slamming into him, and he’s not too proud to admit that he’s probably drawing blood with his nails, noises escaping him with his breath. This won’t last long, can’t last long, not with Roxas leaning forward to bury teeth into his collarbone, grating across bone and making him howl, not with Axel canting his hips up to get the right angle, not when Roxas gets a still-stick hand on him, jerking almost viciously, and Axel comes with his hands in Roxas’ hair and the blond’s name on his lips, Roxas giving a few last, irregular thrusts before he slumps over Axel, panting.

They don’t stop for most of the weekend – Axel has Roxas over the back of the couch, and Roxas retaliates on the kitchen floor; they ruin the shower, the couch, the carpet, and, in one memorable bout, the drapes of the big window in Axel’s living room, Roxas desperately trying to keep cries to a minimum as he’s bent over the sill, window open, and the guy across the street gives them a thumbs up when they’re done. Somehow, Roxas thinks he’s not the first of Axel’s hook-ups to be displayed in such a manner, but he’s not sure he can find the energy to care. He’s fucked out, eating pancakes with too much syrup on the musty couch, naked and exhausted.  
“What time am I taking you back?” Axel asks, slumping down next to him with his own plate, already chewing a mouthful, “You got work to finish up?”  
Roxas ignores him as he swallows.  
“Earth to Rox?”  
“I don’t want to go back.” The blond says, sulkily, “Riku will have fucked Sora on everything we own – ”  
“Like we did.”  
“Including my bed, and I’m too tired, and the bed’s shitty there anyway, and – ”  
Axel smiles and curls a little closer, pressing a syrupy kiss to Roxas’ cheek.  
“Got to take you back, kid. Five?”  
“Four,” Roxas admits, “I’ve got an essay to do, and I’ll have to wash my sheets, too.”  
Axel rewards him with another kiss, softer this time, pulling a blanket off the floor and dragging it over the two of them, letting him slide his arms around the blond as he does so, snuggling in as Roxas puts his empty plate on the floor. The blond dozes off against him and Axel pretends he doesn’t spend the next hour cuddling him and running his hands through blond spikes, just because he knows he won’t be caught.

They’re slow in the shower, Roxas taking him in easily, and Axel’s cursing himself before as he’s seated, because he’s bare, he’s a fucking idiot, but Roxas arches back.  
“I don’t care, don’t fucking care, please.”  
Axel’s not strong enough to deny that, just keeps a slow, steady pace, and he knows Rox must be sore by now, because he is, but this is their last go at it, the last time they’re joined for now, and it’s got to count, it has to. There’s something almost worshipful in the kisses Axel’s peppering Roxas’ neck with, and when they come, they’re silent, the water on the tile the only sound. They clean off, stilted, avoiding bumping one another, and Roxas gets out first, whilst Axel’s still got shampoo in his hair, walking into the living room, wrapped in a towel. Axel continues to wash, as if it hasn’t happened, and when he steps out, towel around his waist, Rox is already dressed, packing his bag up by the door.  
“Be out in a minute.” Axel says, slipping into the bedroom and shutting the door behind him before he realises what he’s just done, but it’s too late, so he dries off and dresses, no added haste, rubbing at his hair as it drips down his back. He steps back out and slips on some shoes, grabbing his keys and a jacket.  
“Don’t have a coat?” he asks, because it’s fucking cold out there, but Roxas just shakes his head, no words. Once they’re in the car, Axel could turn the radio on, just for some noise, but he doesn’t – they drive in silence through the darkening evening, and Axel finds he’s nervous when they pull up by Rox’s dorm building.  
“So – ”  
“Whatever.” Roxas says, reaching over to drag his bag out of the back, and Axel cups a hand around the side of his neck, “Get off me, jerk.”  
“This isn’t over, Rox.”  
“You don’t do commitment, Demyx said. Hell, Zexion said when he took me for coffee last week. You do quick fucks and a few weeks, but nothing longer. I’m just ending this on my terms.”  
“Rox… it’s never been you before.”  
That almost seems to the stop the blond, completely still, before he turns a little towards the driver’s seat.  
“What’s the difference?”  
Axel closes his eyes and breathes.  
“Don’t make me fucking say it, okay? You’re… you.”  
Roxas laughs, a sound of pure delight in having found a weak spot.  
“I didn’t realise I was such a good lay.”  
Axel sighs, and shoulders the burden.  
“You’re a hell of a lot more than that. You busy next weekend?”  
“Studio.” Roxas says, ruefully, “And weekend after that I’ve got a show. You could… I mean, if you’re not busy.”  
“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, you find a spare evening, call me, yeah?”  
Roxas leans into the kiss, which is slow, reverent, gentle.  
“Maybe,” he says, impishly, when they part, “If you’re good.”  
Axel watches him walk to the dorms, then starts the car. They’re not over yet, and as for what they might become, only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> To tie a corset at the front is a nod to the way an obi would be tied on a prostitute - at the front, supposedly for convenience, whilst a geisha would tie hers at the back, so as not to be in the way of playing instruments. Although this may be mere historical fiction at this point, it seemed like a nice way to tie (hah) the story together.


End file.
